Prove Yourself A Hero
by Lazarus76
Summary: A missing Point Man is the beginning for a trip into darkness.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur swallowed as he raised his gun, and aimed it. Eames was crouching next to him. "Do you see him?" The Forger whispered, his tone urgent. The Point Man raised an eyebrow in irritation. "Yes. Keep your voice down."

Both men watched as the unassuming looking man walked across the sidewalk. From their viewing point, they had prime position, but Arthur was still wary. Too many things had already gone wrong, too many mistakes. He bit his lip, and lowered the barrel of the gun. _Come on, _his mind chanted, _just walk a little further along-_

Suddenly, they tilted and began to slide. Arthur cursed as he lost his grip, and accidentally pulled the trigger. "Eames!" he shouted, but the Forger had already been hit in the chest. His eyes widening, the Point scrambled towards him, aware of the tilting surface. "Eames, hold on, we'll-"

Suddenly, his eyes opened. He found himself staring into the face of Cobb, who looked both angry, and impatient. "What the hell happened?" the Extractor demanded. Arthur felt himself flush, and began to sit up, pulling the IV out of his arm. "A mistake," he muttered.

"A mistake?" The Forger commented, from his own lounger. "You call shooting me in the chest a mistake? Nice one, Arthur." The lack of geniality in Eames' tone stung the Point Man. He was suddenly painfully aware of what he'd done - which on a job, rather than a re-cap session, could have proved disastrous. He rubbed his forehead, feeling anger suddenly mix with a sense of inadequacy.

"Look," the Point Man snapped, struggling to remain calm, "I said it was a mistake! I never said I was infallible!" He turned away from the two other men, his breathing slightly ragged. Cobb swallowed, marshalling his thoughts. Eames fell silent.

"OK," he said, turning from the Point Man. "Let's just leave this here." He walked back over to his desk, allowing Arthur to get up, and walk to the bathroom.

As he headed to the sink, he peered at his face. His skin was flushed, and running a faucet, began to splash cold water on it. The feel of the drops was soothing, and his breathing steadied, he grew calmer. He straightened up, and re-adjusted his suit.

As he left, he walked straight into Ariadne. "Hey," he said, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Just seeing her gave him a feeling of relief, of normality. Even though he was aware of being seen as unprofessional, he couldn't resist leaning forward, and giving her a kiss. She blushed, her pale skin staining with a delicate shade of rose. "Hey yourself." She nodded towards a quiet corner of the warehouse, and Arthur followed her. "Are you ok?" she asked, concern clouding her voice.

He nodded. "Bad day at the office." He shrugged. "I'll be fine."

"Well, I just heard-" she bit her lip, and fell into silence. She took a deep breath, not wanting to antagonise him. "I just heard you raise your voice, thats all."

"I made a mistake." The corner of his mouth curled up. "Even I make mistakes, sometimes."

She smiled. Suddenly, they heard a cough, and he turned to see Cobb standing in the doorway. Arthur suppressed a sigh of irritation, and turned to face the Extractor. "Yes?"

"Can I have a word?" Cobb's tone was pleasant, but Arthur picked up on the hidden message. He nodded. "Sure." Ariadne turned and headed back to the stairs, to the basement she used as her modeling room. The Point Man swallowed and followed the Extractor to his office.

Cobb wasn't sitting in his chair, but leaning against his desk. "Hey Art." Arthur felt his shoulders stiffen slightly. The use of his nickname seemed a warning. "Yes?"

"Whats going on?" The lack of preamble surprised the Point Man, but he decided to respond as simply as he could. "Nothing."

"Really?" The Extractor raised an eyebrow. "Then what happened? A simple exercise, for practice, and next thing I know, Eames gets shot in the chest." He folded his arms. "Not what I expected."

"One apology is all he's getting," Arthur mumbled. He looked directly at Cobb. The Extractor, to his surprise, smiled. "Arthur. You can't stop thinking about it, can you?"

Arthur sat down in a chair. "No. Not really." He rubbed his forehead. "Be honest. Can you?"

Cobb bit his lip. "No." He looked at Arthur. "It was such a huge case, there was not telling what would happen." He sank into another chair, and faced the Point Man. "I'm sorry, Arthur. There are times when I do regret we ever got involved."

He shrugged. "Its done."

"But it isn't." Cobb looked at him. "Do you wake up in the middle of the night, your heart pounding? Sheets soaked through?"

"I don't need a psych evaluation," Arthur muttered. "But thanks, anyway." He got up. "We tried. We got the evidence. We never brought him to justice."

"He would have always escaped it, anyway."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "That's a little defeatist." He turned. "See you later."

* * *

3am. He sat up, abruptly, his heart pounding. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed. He turned, and looked at the Architect, who shifted in her sleep, but didn't awake.

He got up, and walked to the kitchen. After retrieving a glass of water, he sank down at the breakfast bar.

The apartment was silent. Ariadne, he'd discovered, was a relatively heavy sleeper, and didn't disturb easily. He rubbed his face.

That case. He deeply regretted having got involved, and allowing Cobb to talk him into it. Incredibly, the team hadn't fallen apart - but he knew it could have come close. Very close.

Sitting at the table, he picked up the glass. He felt an urge. A desperate urge to block it out. To possibly prove something to himself, and the team. A new job, he decided. A new job that he could monopolise, without risk of interference.

"Point for hire", he mumbled to himself. "That could be the way."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Arthur hurried across the road, weaving his lean frame around the crawling traffic. He was honked at, angrily, by an irate cab driver, and glared at them. As soon as he put his foot on the sidewalk, he heard a familiar voice.

"Arthur! Fancy breakfast?"

The Point Man blinked, and took in Eames. The Forger seemed remarkably cheerful, and was wearing a shirt that demonstrated a man with plenty of money, but a seeming lack of pride in his appearance. Arthur straightened his suit jacket, pointedly. "Just eaten." He swallowed. The bowl of granola and cup of coffee with Ariadne had been eaten in almost total silence. She was aware of his uneasiness, but had chosen not to press him. He'd sat hunched over the paper, spooning the cereal into his mouth, her nibbling toast, trying to concentrate on her book. It had struck him that despite being in a relationship, he currently felt lonelier than before.

"Well," Eames said, smiling jovially, "you can always have coffee, and look longingly at my French toast, ok?"

Arthur decided to give in. Eames' energy was overwhelming. Silently, he followed the taller, stockier man into a nearby diner. As they were ushered to a vinyl covered booth by an attractive brunette, Arthur was beginning to wonder how much of Eames' desire to come in was driven by the need for food. Eames picked up a laminated menu, skimmed it, and handed it to Arthur, who proceeded to lay it flat on the table. For a few seconds, neither man spoke.

Finally, Eames broke the oppressive silence. "Whats up?"

"The sky." Arthur flicked a crumb that had been left by a previous diner off the plastic coated table. "And the roof."

"Cut it out." Eames leaned back, and looked at the Point Man. "Whats wrong with you?"

Arthur sighed. "One apology is all your getting, Eames." He raised an eyebrow. "I'll be more sophisticated next time, ok?"

Eames shrugged. "Not a big deal." He fell silent as the waitress approached. She smiled at the two men, with a subtle hint of flirtatiousness. Eames returned her smile, and Arthur shifted, uncomfortably. "French toast and cappuccino please," the Forger said, smoothly.

She scribbled on her pad. "Of course. And for you?"

Arthur didn't hesitate. "Black coffee, please. Filter."

Nodding, she pocketed her pad and hurried back to the counter. Arthur leaned back, and looked at Eames. "You know," he began, "this isn't the best place to discuss what we do."

Eames fiddled with the sugar shaker. "Not here to discuss work," he said, firmly. "I'm going to discuss you."

Arthur sighed with exasperation. "Nothing to talk about." He studied his fingers.

"Really?" Eames leaned forward, lowering his voice. The music piped through was loud, but not loud enough to completely drown a conversation. "Then why the night sweats? The lack of sleep? The vibes of not wanting to have anything to do with us?"

Arthur looked up, startled. "I'm not that bad," he muttered, defensively. At that point, the waitress returned, carrying a tray, laden with cappuccino, coffee, and a plate of French toast. She smiled at the Forger and gave the Point Man a quick, cursory glance. He ignored her, and pulled his cup of black coffee towards himself. Eames was shaking sugar into his cappuccino. After waiting again, the Forger spoke.

"You have been." The words unnerved Arthur, who had been unaware of how his behaviour appeared to the rest of the team. "Seriously, Arthur, its not doing you any good, or us."

Arthur ran his hand over his face, and stared into the dark well of liquid sitting before him. "Last case wasn't easy," he muttered, wondering how he could end this excrutiating conversation without giving the Forger more ammunition. An age seemed to pass before Eames spoke again.

"I know." Arthur blinked; the Forger's tone was almost gentle, sympathetic. "Arthur, it was a difficult case - I nearly walked out, remember? I didn't agree with it from the beginning, and I didn't like Cobb's crude emotional blackmail. Plus I fell in love." He fell silent, and Arthur felt a jab of guilt. Swallowing, he reached for his coffee, and took a sip. Eames took a bite of toast. Silence fell again.

Arthur swallowed, and began to speak. "Have you heard from her at all?"

Eames looked at him. "I've had an email." He sighed, and listlessly began to stir the cappuccino, whipping up the froth. "But it was good while it lasted, and I have no regrets." He put his spoon down, and looked at the Point Man. "And neither should you." He leaned forward, and lowered his voice. "He won't harm anyone again, ever."

Arthur nodded. "But its not as though he's in jail." He paused; the waitress was ushering a small group to a nearby table. He raised his eyebrows at Eames. "Let's get out of here."

Eames nodded, and began to bite into his toast. Arthur took another swallow of coffee, the warmth searing to his stomach. Eames sipped his cappuccino, smiling appreciatively. Suddenly, Arthur spoke again.

"Eames."

"Yes?"

"Did I-" he paused, and lowered his voice. "Did I let the team down?"

Eames shook his head, and carefully placed his cup back in its saucer. "No." He looked at the Point Man. "That mind was a terrifying place to be." He shuddered, and finished his toast. "Come on."

Arthur pulled out his wallet, and counted out his share of the bill. The two men left the money on the table, and leaving the remains of their food, left the building. Arthur shivered; the temperature was cold for the month, and he pulled the collar of his black trench coat up around his jaw and ears. "Wonder what we're doing today," he said, his voice devoid of enthusiasm.

"Possibly more training," Eames commented. He cast a glance at the Point Man, who didn't respond. The warehouse was a short walk, hidden behind a couple of alleys. The two men walked quickly, both anxious to be out of the cold. As they approached the warehouse, Arthur frowned.

"Eames."

"What?"

"Does she look familiar?"

Eames blinked. Standing near the entrance of the Warehouse was a young woman who neither man recognised. Arthur stopped; his suspicions were alerted. "No, she doesn't," the Forger admitted.

Arthur nodded. "OK. We approach her. We don't give anything anyway."

Eames nodded in agreement, and they walked towards her. "Morning," Arthur said, neutrally. "May I help you?"

She turned, and he came face to face with her. He noticed that she was attractive high cheekbones, with smooth, glossy dark hair. He swallowed, and she met his eyes. The coolness of her gaze was disconcerting.

"Morning," she responded, her tone as neutral as his. "I'm looking for..." she fished in her pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. "Dominic Cobb."

"Well, if there's no response, he's not here," Arthur replied, his tone not betraying a flicker of emotion. "May I ask who you are?"

"Elisia," she replied. "Elisia Rooke."

Arthur nodded. "And your purpose is...?"

"Um," she lowered her voice. "Could we go inside to talk?" she practically whispered. Arthur raised an eyebrow. He was not in favour of complete strangers seeing their set-up.

"Tell us out here," he said, his voice polite, but firm. "What is the problem?"

She swallowed. "Well, I'm a journalist, and-"

Arthur's blood began to freeze. "Forget it!" he practically snapped, and turned away. Eames, embarrassed by the Point Man's behaviour, approached her. She looked stung.

"Please forgive my colleague," Eames said, looking irritated. "He's not good in the mornings. May I help you?"

She bit her lip, clearly rattled by Arthur's attitude. "Well, you guys work in dream extraction, right?" she'd lowered her voice, and Eames nodded.

"Well, I came to see you about a series of disappearances." She looked at them. "People have gone missing, and well, there's something..." her voice lapsed into silence. Arthur turned back to her.

"People are disappearing?" he repeated, feeling his heart sink. She nodded. "Yes."

He looked at Eames. "We should wait for Cobb," he said, his mind beginning to race, "but you can say what you need to to us. Shall we go inside?"

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. This is a follow up to Buried Inside, and I got the idea whilst finishing that fic. If you read and review, you will make my day! Thank you!**

Ariadne rolled over, and as her arm hit the empty side of the bed, exhaled with disappointment. Arthur was getting up earlier than ever, claiming he was feeling unfit, and needed to go for a run. She knew he was lying.

He couldn't sleep. And, she thought with a stab of hurt, didn't seem to want to lie next to her.

She stretched, and the memories of the previous few weeks were flooding back. Several times, he'd woken up, panting, and had had to leave the bed in order to calm himself. She'd found his t-shirts lying in the laundry basket, drenched in sweat, and smelling stale. She'd pretended to sleep, but she'd heard him. Heard him pacing in the lounge of his apartment. Heard him sitting at the table, a glass of water that he never drank before him.

She never got up. She didn't feel she could. Arthur didn't see it as her role to protect him - he considered it his role to protect her. And by getting up, and trying to assauge his nightmares, try to make him realise she did understand, but she couldn't. To do so would undermine him, make him feel less of a man. For all his modernity, Arthur was surprisingly old-fashioned.

She threw back the covers, glanced at the digital clock, and sighed. Half eight. She would be late. Getting out of the rumpled bed, she padded listlessly into the small kitchen. Despite having her own apartment, she was spending easily three if not four nights a week at the Point Man's.

As she wandered into the cozy kitchenette, she noticed a note on the table. Picking it up, she frowned slightly.

_Sorry, didn't have time for breakfast, had to leave early. You looked beautiful, as usual. A x_

With a sigh of irritation, she carefully placed the note on the side, and concentrated on finding the coffee cannister. A gnawing feeling was beginning to lodge itself in her stomach, and wind its way up into her mind. At first, she refused to accept it, as it seemed so unlikely. But now she was beginning to consider a very real possiblity.

That Arthur was avoiding her.

She bit her lip, and felt the tears prickling her eyes, giving into the nagging thought that was nibbling at her soul like a shoal of hungry fish. She looked at the coffee cannister in her hand, its shiny aluminium surface taunting her with her warped reflection. She put it down, and with a sense of determination, turned and headed for the shower.

* * *

"Are you allright?"

Arthur blinked. The journalist was looking directly at him, her expression hovering between annoyance and sympathy. He swallowed, and reached for the cup of coffee that Eames had surrepitiously placed by his side.

"I was telling you this background story." Her tone was edged with irritation, and Arthur felt a wave of embarrassment. He suddenly realised that he must have nearly fallen asleep, which made him feel annoyed with himself. "I'm sorry." He apologised, and noticed her expression softening. "I'm not sleeping well at the moment."

Her expression mutated into one of outright sympathy, and he suddenly felt shocked at himself. He hadn't even been honest with Ariadne about his insomnia, and here he was, admitting it to a complete stranger. He rubbed his forehead. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Please continue," Eames cut in. "What is it about the missing individuals?"

Elisia paused and looked into the well of her coffee cup. "Well, they have been found."

Arthur let out a sigh of relief. Catching Eames' eye, he swallowed.

"But there's a problem, right?" his tone was urgent.

She looked at him. "Correct." Taking another sip of coffee, she meet his eyes. "They were - ."

Arthur let out a juddering breath. "Excuse me." Getting up, he headed to the small bathroom. As he locked the door, he perched on the toilet seat and rubbed his face.

_Its not him. It can't be. _Getting up, he turned on the cold faucet, and allowed the water to stream out over his wrists, cooling his blood. He looked at himself in the mirror, and was shocked at how pale his skin was. Grimacing, he splashed his face with water. Steadying himself, he began to get up, and unlocked the door. As he walked out, he blinked. Eames was standing out.

"What's going on?" Eames voice was low, and urgent. Arthur shook his head. "Bad night."

"I see." The older man leaned against the door. "Arthur, come on, this isn't like you. Its not typical."

Arthur swallowed. "I know." He looked at Eames, and sighed. "I know. Its just-" he bit his lip. Eames raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. As he turned and walked back to where the journalist was sitting, he took a deep breath. He knew this wasn't normal behaviour. Not for him. He was always in control. He re-seated himself, and smiled.

"I apologise," he said, sincerely. "Please, continue."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapter!**

"So, let's get this straight." Arthur settled down again, his hand clasping the handle of a mug of coffee. "You say this case concerns disappearances?"

Elisha nodded. She was pulling a cigarette out of a packet, which drew a slight frown from the Point Man. He didn't appreciate people smoking in the warehouse, but decided that if this case was as intriguing as was being hinted, he could live with it. He stretched, and the journalist looked at him.

"It concerns disappearances," she continued, flicking her lighter and sending a flare into the room, "but we have never found any evidence that they're dead."

Arthur felt his stomach give a sickening lurch. He turned and looked at Eames, whose face was inscrutable. The Forger noted Arthur's discomfort, and spoke first. "Please continue."

"Well, the disappearances tend to be focused around one specific area." She reached into her bag, and pulled out a map. "This part of the North West quadrant."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "You mean around the Seattle area?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"And how long have those disappearances been occurring for?" Eames' quiet interjection made Arthur focus.

She checked her notes. "About five years."

Arthur swallowed. "Five years? And its only now that anyone has actually said anything?"

"Well, they've not followed a pattern." She pulled out a brief file. "There is no coherence between those who've disappeared."

Arthur bit his lip, and held his hand out. "May I?"

She nodded. "Of course." As he grasped the file, footsteps, two sets of them, were heard. The Point Man turned - both Cobb and Ariadne stood in the doorway. The Extractor's face was filled with consternation; the Architect's looked slightly confused. Cobb spoke first. "I'm Dom Cobb. And you are-?"

"I'm Elisha. Elisha Rooke." She stood up, and offered her hand to the Extractor. He looked at her, then took it. "I was invited in by Arthur, and Eames," she continued.

"I see." Cobb's voice was neutral. "Well, please don't let us hold you up." He turned and headed towards his own office, leaving the journalist looking slightly stunned.

Arthur got up. "Please," he said, his voice and tone belying the surge of irritation he felt, "I'll show you out." Still clutching the file in his hand, he began to escort the blonde to the door. Ariadne looked at her as she passed her, an look of unease on her face. Swallowing, she made her way to her desk, and booted her laptop. Arthur followed the journalist down the stairs, and showed her out.

As she turned to leave, she handed him a small card. "In case you get bored," she said, a half smile illuminating her face. Nodding, Arthur watched her walk down the street, turning a corner, at which point she disappeared.

Swallowing, he turned and walked back up the stairs, deep in thought. As he re-entered the main room, he came face to face with Cobb.

"Arthur. A word." Turning, he walked back to his office, the expectation clear that Arthur would follow him. The Point Man did so, fingering the files as he did so. As he walked past the Architect's desk, he noticed the slightly stricken look on her face, and smiled, an attempt to be reassuring.

Cobb shut the door as soon as they were both inside. As he faced Arthur, his expression was pulled into one of concern. "What's going on?"

Arthur blinked. "What do you mean?"

The Extractor swallowed. "Well, there was the incident with you shooting Eames in the dream. Now I turn up to find that you've invited a journalist in, which has made us incredibly vulnerable. Do you have any explanation for this?"

Arthur bit his lip. "Look, she says there is a case. People have gone missing over the course of five years. Are you telling me that it isn't important?"

"I'm just remembering the way you reacted when I introduced you to the Caddick Case." Cobb's eyes didn't flinch. "Are you honestly going to tell me that you weren't affected by it?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that we've all noticed how tense you've been, how nervous." Cobb's expression softened slightly as he looked at the Point Man. "Arthur, I know it was a horrible case, but-"

"A horrible case?" Arthur didn't break his gaze. "We went into the mind of a murderous psychopath, and it stirred up things that-" he swallowed, unable to trust himself. "It stirred up a lot of emotions."

The Extractor nodded "I see." His tone was sympathetic, but Arthur felt like shouting _do you? What the hell do you see? _He exhaled, slowly. "Cobb, I feel like this could be an important case. She's given me the notes. I would like to go through them."

"But what if it involves going into the mind of a psychopath again?" Cobb's tone was challenging. Arthur swallowed, and looked directly at the Extractor.

"I guess I'll be better prepared."

* * *

Ariadne looked over at Arthur, who was buried in the files he'd been handed. She bit her lip. She wanted to talk to him, but wasn't sure how she could broach the topic that was weighing heavily on her mind. She studied his profile - the intense dark eyes, the way his hands were carefully handling the sheaths of paper, as though they were priceless relics. She knew she shouldn't break his concentration, but felt the only thing she could do was speak to him.

"Arthur?"

He looked up. "Hey." He smiled at her, a gentle, considerate one. Feeling her confidence surge, she approached him. "Are you coming to bed soon?" she asked.

He checked his watch. "I will be," he promised. He looked up at her. "Are you ok?"

She swallowed. "I'm just...a little worried about you," she confessed, hoping that it wouldn't be interpreted as neediness. "You've seemed so tired, so-"

"Hey." He got up, and pulled her close. "I know, I'm sorry. I guess that case, it just..." his voice faltered, and he pulled her closer.

She didn't resist. He kissed, and began stroking her back. She felt a surge of warmth go through her. The best thing that had come out of that case, she decided, was her and Arthur.

"Listen, why don't you go on to bed," he mumbled, kissing the top of her head. "I'll be along soon."

"OK." She felt a reluctance to leave him, but realised she need to respect this. Turning, she began to head towards the bedroom in his apartment, hopeful he would soon join her.

* * *

Arthur flicked through the files. Six people, vanished without a trace. Nothing had pulled up any leads - nothing from the police department, or the FBI. Vanished. For a brief moment, Arthur began to wonder if there was such a thing as alien abduction.

He looked at the spiral notepad he kept close at hand, which he used to jot down any key points. Suddenly, something caught his eye, and he flicked back, his eyes widening as he read it.

* * *

The shrill beep of his cellphone waked the Extractor. He rubbed as his face as he began to sit up, cursing the need he felt to keep it on all the time. He reached for it, stumbling in the dark. As he grabbed it, he clicked the button. "H'lo?"

"Cobb?"

"Arthur." With a wave of irritation, the Extractor turned to the bedside clock. "Its 1 am. What is it?"

"Remember the journalist? The one who was with us today?"

"Yes." Cobb sighed. "Look, Art, I'm not really in the mood to play twenty questions, so if you could-"

"Her name's Elisha Rooke."

"Yes, and?"

"What was Nash's surname?"

A jolt of adrenaline began to surge through the Extractor. "It was-" his voice began to falter.

"Rooke." Arthur's voice sounded breathy, as though he were becoming too excited to get the words out coherently. "She's related to Nash. That's why she's approached us."

"Because she knows about extraction?"

"No. Because Nash is one of the people who've gone missing."

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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the shortness of this chapter!**

"Arthur." Cobb rubbed his face, and winced. "Its 1 am. Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"Well..." Arthur bit his lip. "I do think that-"

"No, listen." Cobb's voice was decisive. "We'll talk tomorrow. Please, go to bed, and rest."

He clicked off, leaving Arthur with an droning buzz erupting in his head. Frowning, he put the cell phone down, and rubbed his face.

He bit his lip. Ariadne was most likely asleep. She had started staying at his apartment more often, which pleased him. He no longer felt as isolated as he had done previously. Cobb had his children, and Eames was never short of female company, but Arthur had always struggled to form relationships. He'd always been too intense - and secretive.

He went into the bedroom, noticing how Ariadne was stretched out, her head resting on her arm, lost in slumber. She was wearing an old t-shirt, and he couldn't tell in the dim light whether it was hers or one of his. He began to pull his own clothes off, carefully laying them on hangers. She murmured and rolled over.

As Arthur slid inbetween the sheets, he felt an arm stir, and loop round his chest. Covering her hand with his, he burrowed into the covers, hoping that sleep would bring a relief from the questions lurking in the recesses of his mind.

* * *

He blinked. He suddenly realised that his eyelashes were scratching against something - material. He also felt something inside his mouth, and then, by poking his tongue against it, realised he was gagged.

"Don't even try to move," a voice said. Arthur felt his heart plummet. He knew that voice - that soft, beguiling voice, as well as he knew the pale, lean frame it was encased in. As well as he knew the piercing blue eyes that were looking down at him now.

"You can't move, bambi," that voice whispered. "You're tied down, completely helpless. Arthur flinched, mentally and physically, as the sharp point of a blade pressed against his skin. He heard the other man's breathing, slowly evolving into a deep, measured pace from a breathy staccato. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this. You're nothing but skin and bones."

The point pierced his skin. Arthur winced, desperately trying to hold on.

"Relax," the voice breathed. "You know you want to, you know you want me to do this-"

"Aarrgh!" Arthur tried to scream through the gag. "Aarrgh! AAARRGGHHH!"

"Arthur!" He felt hands shaking him, a gentle female voice. "Arthur, please! Come back to me! ARTHUR!"

His eyes flew open, and he realised he was looking into the frightened eyes of the Architect. She held his forearms, trying to steady him. "Arthur, please! Come back to me!"

"I-I-" he stammered out. Looking at her, he saw fear and confusion lurking in the depths of the deep brown orbs. He swallowed. "It was a bad dream," he admitted. He pulled himself into a sitting position. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Arthur, its-" she swallowed. "It'll be ok. I promise you, it'll be ok."

The Point Man swallowed, remembering what he'd found that day, and what he'd told Cobb.

"But what if-" he shook his head, trying to clear it. "What if I told you that Rafe Lloyd-"

"He's in a coma," Ariadne interrupted, as she took Arthur's hand. "He's in a coma. He's not going to wake up. You sent him to limbo."

"I know I did," Arthur said, looking into her eyes, and smoothing hair back from her face. "And now I think he's going to send me insane."

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

Ariadne turned over, and realised that the side of the bed was empty. Again. Sitting up, she began to rub her face, hoping Arthur was still in the apartment. She strained her ears, and realising that she couldn't hear any movement, settled back onto the pillows, resigned to another morning of being alone.

The scenes from the early morning had disturbed her. Frightened her, even. The Lloyd case had been terrifying - they'd been inside the subconscious of a maniac, a man who underneath his good looks and obvious charm hid a heart of ice. A man prepared to murder and mutilate in order to hide his own behaviour. And they'd been in his mind, fully exposed to those twisted machinations.

She shivered. It was just too-

Suddenly, she heard a door close, and her heart leapt. "Arthur?" she called out. The bedroom door opened, and the Point Man appeared. He was still wearing the t-shirt and boxers he'd slept in, his hair rumpled, holding a glass of water. He smiled at her, apologetically.

"I'm sorry," he said, his tone genuine. "I had to get up, clear my head." He sat down on the bed, and took a swallow of water. "Last night..."

She turned to him. "Arthur, I'm worried." Her delivery of the words was flat, devoid of emotion. He met her eyes. "You need to deal with this."

"But I can't." There was an edge of anguish in his voice that caused her heart to contract. "If I tell someone that I went into the mind of a killer, they'll find out-"

"What about Eames? What about Cobb?" She didn't avert her gaze. "They were there, too. We all were. All of us. How do you know that they don't have nightmares about this?"

"Cobb made the decision to go into this job, and Eames had Fran." Arthur looked at the bedsheet. "They had-" he stopped, thinking reflectively.

"It doesn't mean they weren't affected. You need to talk to them." Ariadne's tone was insistent. "Please."

Arthur looked at her, and caught her under the chin with his finger. "OK. I will." He took another swallow of water. "This case...I know deep down it has nothing to do with Lloyd, but the fact that people are disappearing..."

She looked at him, sypmathetically. "It doesn't have anything to do with him, Arthur. But you can't let go." She pulled him down towards her, startled by her boldness. "Its over. All of it."

Arthur nodded, and took her hand. "You're right." He sighed, deeply. "All I can do now is try and move forward."

Ariadne swallowed, and pressed his hand gently. "You can. You will. But...do you want to come into work a little later today? You didn't get much sleep."

Arthur smiled, tiredly. "I got enough to function."

"That's not enough."

The Point Man looked at her, smiling wryly. "Together for only six months, and you start to boss me around?" He stopped as he saw her colour. "Its fine, I like it."

She nodded. "Just as long as you're sure." Getting up, she began to gather a towel. "I'm going to shower. See you there!"

Arthur stretched out, resting his head on the pillow. A sudden wave of fatigue washed over him, and he felt himself falling into sleep. He didn't try and resist, but succumbed. As the Architect wandered back into the bedroom to gather her clothes, she noticed his repose and relaxed expression. Smiling to herself, she gently pulled the covers back over him, and headed back to the warm, steam filled bathroom.

* * *

Cobb looked at the clock on his desk, and frowned slightly. No Ariadne, no Arthur. He tapped the pen against the side, feeling impatient. He needed Arthur in work, especially after his phone call the previous night. Feeling a flush of irritation, he picked up his cellphone.

* * *

Ariadne smiled as she approached the coffee shop. Eames had agreed to meet her; she needed to talk to someone. About Arthur. About how their last case seemed to be ripping him apart. As she entered the shop, she noticed her phone was ringing. Frowning, she pulled it out to answer.

* * *

Arthur sighed, and shifted in his sleep. The exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him; he burrowed further into the pillows. The covers rested on him lightly, causing a pleasant sensation of warmth.

Suddenly, he twitched and began to wake. He could hear something. Something that sounded like a dull thud, followed by a crash. As he began to jerk awake, he suddenly began to realise what was happening.

Intruders.

He turned, trying to wake up, still hovering on the borderline between sleep and wakefulness. Then, the door to the bedroom was thrown open, and an unfamiliar voice shouted out. "Hey! He's in here!"

"In there?" The responding voice sounded angry, slightly confused. "That's not possible! He should be-"

Arthur began to feel a surge of anger. Despite his sleep sodden haze, he began to get up, only to find himself pushed back with a swift punch. Collapsing back onto the bed, he felt the roughness of a hood pulled over his face. "Hey!" he shouted. "You-"

A strong stench of choloroform assaulted his nostrils, and suddenly, he was plunged into darkness.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter, means a lot!**

Arthur lay still.

A coolly dispassionate eye was casting over his body, noting the posture. Curled up, almost feotal. The Point Man was motionless, seemingly oblivious to the driving van, clearly not noticing how fast they were going.

"Well?" a voice spoke, breaking the silence. An edgy, nervous voice.

"Well what?"

"Is he...?"

"He's out for the count." The voice, a female voice, was throaty, and chuckled. "Don't look so nervous. It doesn't suit you, really."

"Well, its just, this guy..." the voice was sounding calmer, but still held a warning note, that the owner could disintegrate into hysteria at any moment. "This guy, he's strong, and he's clever, and he's-"

"Currently tied up, and when he wakes he'll be as docile as a little lamb." The female speaker's voice was assured, and was laced with smugness. "He's not going anywhere, trust me."

There was a pause, and then the male voice spoke again.

"I hope you're right."

"Trust me, I am. Me and this guy...we go back. Way back."

* * *

"So, what's up?"

Ariadne looked up at Eames, who was idly stirring his cappuccino. She frowned, and looked down into her mocha. "I'm just...concerned about Arthur."

"He won't thank you for that," the Forger commented, picking up his cup and taking a sip. "Never likes to admit to weakness, Arthur." He looked into the swirl of froth. "Always been like that, ever since I started working with him."

"He's having nightmares," Ariadne said, abruptly. "I mean, when he's asleep at night, not when-"

"Sshhh," Eames said, warningly, putting a finger to his lips. "Careful. Can't really mention that here. But - actual nightmares?"

She nodded. "Yes." Swallowing, she pushed her mocha aside; it tasted bitter. "He keeps waking up, covered in sweat, and shaking. I've pretended to be asleep, but I've seen him." She looked at her hands. "Its about the last case."

"Ari." Eames, to her surprise, placed his hand over hers. "Its over. Lloyd is- might as well be dead." He practically whispered the last words, and she shuddered. "But he's not to Arthur. And I have no idea why."

Eames paused, letting the words hang between them. "Could be because the way Lloyd worked is so different to how Arthur thinks." Eames swallowed. "Look, Ari, Arthur has never been in a relationship, not to my knowledge. He's intensely private, never likes to open up. Who knows whats beneath the surface? Who knows what secrets he's got?"

Ariadne flinched; the idea of Arthur possessing secrets, a past, was unappealing. She knew he would have; he was older than her and would have had other lovers; but part of her wanted to cling to the notion that she was the only one he'd ever really wanted, really cared for. She swallowed, an uncomfortable feeling lodging in her stomach.

"I'm sorry," Eames said, biting his lip. "I've upset you, and I didn't mean to. But, Ari, if you really want to get to the bottom of this, you'll have to talk to him."

Ariadne looked at the Forger. "Arthur's not the easiest person to talk to. But there was something-" she stopped, afraid she'd said too much. She remembered his confession, the torment on his face.

"What is it?" Eames leaned forward, alert to the change in her expression. "What's up?"

Ariadne exhaled; she'd said too much, almost violated Arthur's confidence. He'd be furious, and with justification. "I should go," she said, quickly. "I was supposed to go in early, see Cobb."

"Ari." Eames looked at her. "I still have Fran's number. If Arthur wants to talk-"

"Can you see Arthur talking to a psychiatrist?" Ariadne shook her head.

"He does know her," Eames reminded her. "It wouldn't be as though he'd be talking to a complete stranger."

The Architect sighed. Eames' practical suggestion was eminently reasonable, but she didn't know how she could suggest it to Arthur. It would be difficult. Arthur's privacy was something he guarded jealousy, and she was aware that whilst he had confided in her once, it could potentially be the last time.

"I need to get to the warehouse," she said, quickly, gathering up her bag. "See you there!"

* * *

Arthur felt himself swimming through space, through a never-ending darkness. Still, cool, and-

He gasped, and found himself shivering. Suddenly, he was plunged again, into what felt like ice. He was pulled up, gasping, and began to find his vision clearing.

"Is he awake?" a male voice, nervous yet somewhat familiar, was speaking. Arthur blinked, his vision returning, and also his balance. He choked, and felt someone rub his back.

"Hey, you're ok," a voice said, worriedly. Arthur swallowed; he felt disoreintated, and was also conscious of a growing thirst. "Let's sit you down."

"I wouldn't pamper him," another voice said, angrily. "We need him to do this for us, not go soft!"

Arthur felt his pulse begin to accelerate. _Need him to do this? _he swallowed, a growing awareness beginning to blossom. He blinked.

"Who..." he was gasping, the ice cold water they had plunged him into had shocked his system. "are...you?"

"Arthur?" he heard a voice, a tentative voice. He blinked, his vision now finally clearing. He couldn't quite comprehend the voice he'd heard. "Nash?"

"Yeah," said the original Architect. "Its me."

"What-" the Point Man was trying to make sense of the incomprehensible events. "Where am I? What am I doing here?"

A female voice - a soft female voice - came close to him. A hand went on his shoulder, and the sharp scent of perfume assaulted his nostrils. He shuddered slightly.

"I need you to do me a little favour," she said, gently. "Or would you prefer jail?"

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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Thank you for all the lovely reviews!**

Arthur swallowed, trying to ignore the tingle of fear creeping up his spine. He turned his head, and met his female captor's eyes.

"What type of favour?" he asked, his voice calmer than he felt. She raised an eyebrow, and took a step back.

"Just an extraction," she said, her tone cool. "An extraction that will benefit me, and my family, and after that we'll let you go, I promise."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He narrowed his eyes. "What sort of extraction?"

She swallowed. "Its one thats needed to get my brother free from a charge-"

Suddenly, Arthur stiffened. "No." He looked at her, his tone defiant. "Forget it. I'm not doing it."

She looked at him. "Fine." She shrugged. "Mike!"

Arthur blinked as a man - the largest of those who had abducted him - moved towards Nash. With a sense of shock, he saw Mike pull out a knife, and hold it against the former Architect's throat. A sickening feeling began to move through Arthur. Nash's eyes were wide, and he realised that he was on the verge of losing control.

"If you don't agree to this," she said, coldly, "we will kill him."

* * *

Ariadne entered the Warehouse, and heard humming. Walking through the open plan structure, she found Cobb, carefully pouring coffee into a mug. He smiled at her. "Morning."

She nodded. "Hey." She looked at the floor. "Um, Arthur might be in a bit later."

Cobb frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. "Any particular reason?"

"He's not sleeping." Ariadne sat down at her desk, and visibly slumped. "He's not sleeping, he's having nightmares, and-"

Cobb blinked. "Whoa." He bit his lip, and poured her a mug of the black brew. "Have you spoken to him about this?"

She shook her head. "I've tried, but...you know Arthur."

"I do." Cobb looked down into his own mug. "Will never admit to anything unless he's asked directly, and even then..."

She shook her head. "I have no idea what to do." Her voice sounded faint, and the Extractor looked at her. "And I don't want to keep pestering him about it, as I know I'll sound like a whiny, needy-" she broke off as Eames can in, a blast of energy. He nodded at both, and moved onto his desk.

Cobb frowned. "We'll talk later," he promised. Nodding, she picked up her mug, and moved silently into the main warehouse.

* * *

"Don't." Arthur spoke with a cold authority. "Don't kill him. Please."

The woman nodded at Mike, and he withdrew the knife, letting Nash pant with fear. She swivelled her eyes towards Arthur.

"So you'll do as we say?"

"Do I really have a choice?" Arthur realised his voice sounded tired, defeated, and felt disgusted with himself. He straightened up in the chair, feeling the rope bonds chafe against his wrists.

She nodded. "When you've done this, yes." She bit her lip. "It involves extracting some-" she paused- "criminal thoughts."

Arthur felt his heart rate increase. "No." He looked at her, his voice firm. "I won't do it."

* * *

Ariadne looked up as Elisha entered the Warehouse. The journalist was impeccably dressed, a thick wool coat covering her tailored clothes. She smiled at the Architect. "Hey. Is Cobb in?"

Ariadne nodded. "He's in the back." She looked back down at her latest design, frowning slightly. Picking up her erased, she began to remove part of it, and then started re-sketching.

She checked her watch. It was nearly 12. Still no sign of Arthur. She bit her lip. She didn't want to call - didn't want of him to think of her as a clinging limpit, and she knew that Point Man hated feeling mothered. Shrugging her shoulders, she pressed on with her work, determined to keep focused.

* * *

Elisha smiled as Cobb brought her a cup of coffee, and Eames joined them. "Thank you."

"So, you say that people have been missing," Cobb began, conversationally. "Have they found bodies?"

She shook her head. "No." She leaned forward, looking at the two men. "I don't think its a serial killer."

"Then what?" Eames looked slightly puzzled.

The journalist took a breath. "I think it may be some form of cult."

* * *

Arthur rubbed his face. The bruising would fade, eventually. He smiled grimly. She'd had him hit several times, but he'd still refused.

_No, I won't help you. No. I won't be a party to this criminal idea. _

He swallowed. Nash. What was he doing? He bit his lip. The former Architect was looking out of his depth, as though he'd signed up for something he could no longer control.

Arthur leaned back. He had no idea where he was. They'd tied his ankles, cut the bounds at his wrists, and then proceeded to hit him. Goading him.

It wasn't going to work. He shook his head, trying not to think about the small room they'd placed him in, or the unspoken threats. Whatever they were involved in, he wasn't going to crack. Trying to maintain his composure, he closed his eyes.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me, apologies for the hiatus, and thank you for reviewing the last chapter!**

Arthur paused, listening intently. He could hear footsteps, but the tread was light enough that he couldn't discern if they belonged to a man or a woman. He swallowed, staying calm. The only way he would make it through this nightmare was by doing so.

The footsteps paused at the door. He waited. Then, they began to recede.

He exhaled, shocking himself with how his breathing juddered. Leaning against the chair, he tried to relax, and ignore the chafing rope burns that were developing on his narrow wrists.

* * *

"Should I call him?"

Cobb looked over at the Architect, whose face was wearing a concerned expression. He nodded, frowning. "Do." He checked his watch. "Its half three. Arthur's never been this late."

"Well, he did need sleep," Ariadne said, slightly defensively. "I don't want to disturb him-"

Cobb cut her off, slightly abruptly. "Ari, this is Arthur. He needs about five hours, max." He shook his head. "Please, call him."

Nodding, she pulled out her cellphone, and punched in the number. She waited, concern quickly spreading on her face as the call went straight to voicemail. "No response." She looked at the other two men, concern beginning to mutate into worry.

"Maybe he's in the shower," Eames commented, as he walked into the kitchenette. "Possible."

"Or on his way here," Cobb mused. He looked at Ariadne, and saw an unmistakeable look of fear in her eyes. "Ari, how about you and Eames go over to the apartment?"

"His apartment," she said automatically, gateful that her team mates were tactful enough not to comment. "He was in his apartment."

Eames nodded. "OK, let's go."

Cobb exhaled, slowly. "Thank you." He opened the inner office door, and approached the journalist again. She was stubbing out a cigarette, and looked at the Extractor, guiltily. "Sorry," she apologised. Cobb shook his head. "Forget it." He settled himself down, and made eye contact. "Now, about this cult?"

* * *

"Arthur?" He swallowed as the door began to creak open. A small, shy looking woman was standing in the doorway. She bit her lip as she looked at the Point Man. "Arthur?"

The Point Man opened his mouth, then realised that lack of liquids had caused his throat to dry out. He coughed, hoarsely, and tried to dampen his mouth with salivia. "Yeah?" he finally croaked out.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, her tone timid, and hesitant.

"Water," he choked out, not bothering with niceties. These people had abducted him, drugged him, and were holding him against his will. He wasn't overly concerned with being polite. She nodded. "Of course."

She was gone a couple of minutes. When she returned, holding a glass, Arthur felt his breath exhale slowly. As she presented the glass, he looked at her, suspicously.

"I hope you haven't put anything in it," he said, his tone cool. He raised an eyebrow, and she looked at him.

"No," she practically whispered. "But...if they do come in, just pretend to be asleep. You can hear them if you do."

Arthur blinked, digesting this information. _You're helping me. Thank you. _

"Um, do you want to tip your head back?" she asked, nervously. He nodded, tilting his head back, and parting his lips. Water filled his mouth, and cascaded down his throat. He swallowed, and felt himself sigh with relief as the water began to invigorate his system.

"Listen, I brought you a bucket," she said, and he then noticed the plastic tool hanging from her left hand. "In case you- well, you know."

He nodded. "Of course." His tone was civil; a hunch was forming that she was at the mercy of his abductors as well.

"Right, lets finish the water." He opened his mouth again, letting the water swill down. As she removed the now empty glass, she also produced a handkerchief, and wiped his mouth. He smiled, touched at the gesture, which indicated she saw him as a person. "Thank you."

She nodded. "My pleasure." She looked at him, her expression guilty. "Like I say, pretend to be asleep when they come in." Before he could respond in any way, she had gone.

* * *

"Arthur?"

Eames followed the Architect as she walked into Arthur's apartment, thankful that the Point Man was now close enough to her to give a set of keys. As they entered, Eames bit his lip; something didn't feel right. The air felt slightly stale, as though the apartment had been left empty, and not been disturbed.

The two of them walked into the kitchen. Ariadne paused, and looked round. "Something's wrong," she said. The Forger looked at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. Ariadne swallowed, and turned to him.

"There's nothing out," she said, pointedly. "Nothing to show anyone's been in here, all day. If he were here, he'd make coffee, wouldn't he?"

Eames nodded, something cold and ugly moving in his stomach, and its twin beginning to awake in his mind. "Yes," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Shall we look in another room?"

He was speaking to dead air. Ariadne had already rushed ahead, into the bedroom. "EAMES!"

* * *

Arthur blinked, hearing footsteps. He closed his eyes, and the door opened.

"Arthur?"

"Nash, be quiet!" the original female voice spoke. "Its worked!"

"OK...so what do you want me to do?"

"Go into the dream."

"And then what?"

"Convince him to do this."

"Convince him to extract your brother's knowledge about those girls he-"

"Yes, Nash!" she sounded exasperated. "He didn't do it, I swear!"

"OK, I'll try." Nash sounded hesitant. "But, leave us alone, ok?"

"Yes." He heard her rapid footsteps walking, then the door closing again.

"OK, Art," Nash leaned down. "Let's get this started."

* * *

Cobb grabbed his cellphone, his mind buzzing with what he'd heard. He flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Dom? Eames. Get over here. Arthur's been taken."

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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the hiatus with this fic!**

Nash bent down beside Arthur. "OK, its simple." He nodded. "I'm going to put you under, and go into your dream." Arthur watched a he pulled out a PASIV, and began to open it. "You can trust me Arthur, I've done this before."

Arthur watched. "Yes Nash. I know." His lip curled. "You did it badly."

Nash turned and looked at him, his face reddening. "You know, I could kill you if I wanted to." His voice had jumped in pitch slightly. "You're on your own, and your team isn't here to support you."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You're meant to be convincing me to do a job for these people." He shook his head. "Its not working, Nash."

Nash smiled. "What if I tell you that there is no actual job? There's no-one to extract from?"

Arthur blinked. "What?"

Nash looked at him. "You know, Arthur? For a clever guy, you're really stupid sometimes." He looked at him. "I told her that we could get you here. She's desperate - and so am I."

Arthur, the full horror of his situation dawning on him, looked at Nash. "What - you mean-"

"What she wants," the embittered man spat out, "and what I want, are two different things." He shoved the IV roughly into Arthur's arm, and before the Point Man could protest, hit the PASIV.

* * *

Cobb, dazed, looked at the apartment. The wreckage in the bedroom - the ripped bedclothes, dishevelled mess - was causing the doubts he'd had at firt to become a terrifying reality. He turned to Eames.

"Has he tried to call you?"

"No," Eames said softly, shaking his head. He cast a look at Ariadne, whose face was pale. "Ari, you-" He stopped.

"We'll have to contact the police," Eames said.

"We can't," Cobb said, shaking his head. "Arthur's an adult, and he's been gone for less than 24 hours. They won't take it seriously."

Ariadne looked at Cobb. "But we can't just-"

Cobb bit his lip. "I know." He turned to them both. "We have to look for him ourselves."

* * *

"Are they both under?"

Louisa looked at the two men, both lying side by side on the beds. She nodded. "So far."

The younger woman bit her lip. "Why are you doing this?"

"To help my family." She looked at her. "That's the only reason."

The other woman shook her head. "I hope you know what you're doing."

She shook her head. "I have no idea."

* * *

"So, let me get this straight, Dr. Roberts. You're telling me that there are people who can go into other people's dreams, and remove ideas? Information? A process called extraction?"

Fran looked at the man seated opposite her, his ivory skin and smooth features creased with a smug smile. "Yes, Dr. Crane," she said with forced politeness. "Its absolutely true. They do. They can, and they can kill people in dreams, causing them to drop into a state called limbo. Which means the mind is completely gone."

Crane raised an eyebrow. "Really." He tilted his head. "Dr Roberts, this sounds too fantastical to be true."

She smiled. "You mean its outside of your tiny reference frame." She looked at him. "Be honest. You don't like anything that you cannot explain."

"On the contrary. I don't like things that are unbelievable, and I worked with psychotics."

Fran stood up, looking at the man in front of her, tied in a straitjacket, and confined to a chair. She looked at the guard and shook her head. "No use." She got up, and turned to leave.

"Dr Roberts..."

She turned to look back at him. "Yes, Dr Crane?" she asked with exaggerated politeness.

"I know you think those people can do that. I know you're telling me about this, so you can get them to work on me!"

She leaned down, and looked at him. "I know you think you're not insane, doctor. I know that for years, you've hidden behind your qualifications, whilst using them to abuse patients." She stood up straight, using her height over him to its full advantage. "I know that you murdered four people. You did it to satisfy your own psychosis." She shook her head. "And I know that you used your own knowledge to plead insanity. But I will get that information out of you, and bring you to justice."

"I didn't kill anyone." Crane opened his glacial blue eyes wide, and for a fleeting second, looked as innocent as a child. "I didn't kill anyone, Fran. Can I call you Fran?"

"If you must."

"My sister knows I'm innocent. She believes it." He raised an eyebrow. "And I didn't cause other people to disappear, as you put it."

"Really?" Fran began to leave. "We'll find out." Turning, she motioned for the guard to open the door.

* * *

Nash blinked, and opened his eyes. He turned to look at the Point Man, who was still lying quietly beside him.

"Hey, Art," he whispered. "You'll be waking up soon. Don't forget what happened, ok?"

Arthur twitched slightly as the drug-induced sleep began to slip away. Nash began to sit up, and smiled. Suddenly, the door opened, and the two women came in.

"Is he ok?"

"Yes, he'll be fine." Nash began to get up. "You know, I haven't gone under for a while. Felt kinda weird."

"I guess." Louisa Crane looked at Nash, almost tearfully. "Thank you for doing this."

"Well, the best person to ask is someone who worked in Extraction." Nash shrugged.

"I'm glad we met." Louisa grasped his hand. "I guess it was a lucky accident."

Nash looked at Arthur, whose eyes were flickering, and smiled. "I guess."

* * *

Eames rifled through papers on the desks. Anything...a clue, a tip off, something to tell them where Arthur could be...

Suddenly, he felt his cell phone begin to ring, and cursing, he pulled it out of his pocket. "Yes?"

"Eames?"

He blinked. "Fran?" His brows creased together. "What? That is-?"

"Yes, it is," she said, quickly. "Look, Eames, I'm sorry to ring you out of the blue, but I need your help. Yours and the team."

"Well, its a little inconvenient right now," Eames said. "We've got a small problem."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Its just-" she paused, and Eames, against himself, felt a smile breaking out over his face. _Same old Fran, _he thought, wistfully. "I have a case."

"Yes, well, so do we." His words came out more abruptly than he'd intended, and he felt himself wince. "What's yours?"

"A psychotic psychiatrist. Whats yours?"

"Arthur. He's gone missing."

* * *

Arthur felt himself stumble, and push against a door. The light was sharp, and hurt his eyes after having been kept in darkness. He blinked.

"This way," a female voice said. Without pausing, he was shoved into the back of a car.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. I am sorry its been so long...writer's block, and other than that, there is no excuse. Please accept my apologies. **

"Scotch?"

Fran swallowed. "Don't mind if I do." She placed herself on a seat, and watched as Eames poured the amber liquid into a glass, his movements careful, precise. She waited, and accepted it with a grateful smile.

"So," Eames commented, perching himself so he faced her. "What brings you here?" His grey eyes swept over her, and pang of regret edged into his heart. "I didn't think this was just a social call."

Fran looked into the amber liquid, and exhaled, slowly. "As I said. I'm currently dealing with an insane psychiatrist, and thought I could..."

"Call upon us," Eames finished. "Sure that's not just it? Because, at the moment, Arthur has disappeared, and we've no idea where."

She edged forward on her seat. "You did say that." She took a sip of scotch. "Any reason why he suddenly just disappeared?"

Eames shook his head. "No. All we have is him vanishing, you appearing with news of a mad quack, and a journalist who is sniffing around." Eames rubbed his head. "Oh, for the good old days of corporate espionage. A lot less simple."

"But haven't you..." Fran bit her lip. "Haven't you started looking for him?"

The Forger sighed. "Its not that simple, you know that. If we alert the police, a lot of questions will be asked. And linked back to a young man currently lying in a vegetative state in a hospital, who has been linked to a notorious murder case." Eames put his glass down, and rubbed his forehead. "Its better we look for him ourselves."

Fran looked at the Forger. "Do you think they'll kill him?"

Eames paled. "I don't know."

* * *

Arthur blinked. He was lying on a cold, stone floor. "Wakey wakey," cam a voice, almost a sibilant hiss. He flicked his eyes upwards. Nash, and Mike, were standing over him. Nash had an air of nervousness, but Mike was calm, and composed.

"Let's make this crystal clear for you," Mike said, his tone cold. "This is what will happen to your little girlfriend if you don't do as I say."

He clicked his fingers. Nash turned and brought into focus a long rubber tube, attached to a funnel. He leaned over Arthur. "Open your mouth."

The Point Man's eyes narrowed. Nash faltered. "I said, open your-"

"Forget it," Mike almost snarled. Shoving Nash roughly out of the way, he pulled out a gun, and pointed it at Arthur's temple. "This is the point where your life starts to flash before your eyes. Now, open your mouth. I don't have a problem with killing you. I don't have a problem with hurting you. You're a means to an end, got that? No-one knows where you are, no-one knows who you're with. Think of that little brunette. She must be going out of her mind. Do you really want us to deliver your corpse to her door?"

Arthur felt himself freeze slightly. Unwilling to speak, he shook his head, and obediently opened his mouth.

"Good boy." Mike gestured, and Nash began to slide the tube into his mouth. It pushed deep into his throat, stopping short of choking him. The Point Man blinked, a growing horror beginning to gnaw its way through his stomach.

"Ready?" Mike turned to Nash. "Do it."

Nash, his fingers visibly shaking, brought a large jug of water. Holding the funnel, he began to fill it. The water snaked down the tube, filling Arthur's mouth, carving a path into his stomach. He gulped, fearing he might choke. Nash, nodding nervously, pulled the tubing out of the Point Man's mouth, causing a slight amount to dribble.

"OK, that's enough." Mike looked at Arthur. "Just so you know how serious I am..."

Raising his foot, he stamped on Arthur's abdomen. Choking and gasping, the Point Man turned to his side, vomiting up water and bile. Coughing, he tried desperately to clear his throat, realising choking to death was a possibility.

Mike leaned down, and lowered his voice. "OK, Arthur. That's just for starters. This is how it works. You do what we ask, or this will happen. Only, it won't be in a dream...it'll be real. You're going to go into Louisa's brother's head, and extract. Extract his secrets, allowing him to be released. And then, you go home. Go home to your girlfriend, your friends, everyone. But, we need him out. You understand?"

Arthur choking, with a dim awareness, nodded.

"But, its going to work like this. We're going to send you to your team. And then we wait. You steer this investigation. You do this."

The ground began to shake. Arthur, weakened, and fighting against nausea, nodded.

* * *

Louisa gently brushed the cheek of the sleeping Point Man. "You're ok," she whispered, softly. Mike turned, and glared at her. "Stop it. Don't go soft."

"I'm not," she protested, "but...did you have to be so brutal in that dream?"

Mike shrugged. "Do you want your brother cleared, or not? This was your idea."

She nodded, subdued. "Yes."

"Good. Stop giving sympathy to him. We're dumping him soon enough, and then, we wait."

* * *

"So how come you're working on the Crane case?" Eames asked, idly. Fran, the scotch having slipped down easily, felt she cold open up.

"They needed an expert on the criminal mind," she said, almost shrugging. "And after Lloyd, it appealed to me. A psychiatrist who tormented his patients into killing themselves - its quite a twist."

Eames nodded. "I agree." He looked at her. "How did he do it?"

She bit her lip. "He confessed, but his family claim that it was a confession made under pressure. If he's convicted, and fails on the plea of insanity, he could face life. If he's considered insane, he'll be institutionalised. But, I'd prefer it if he was found guilty without insanity. Insanity implies he has no need to take responsibility."

Eames bit his lip. "How could he not be found guilty?"

Fran looked at him. "There is no way he could not be found guilty." She shook her head. "He's a maniac."

Eames smiled. "I get the impression."

"But..." she looked at him. "There is something you should be aware of. He had a patient, a man seemingly possessed of mild psychotic delusion. Kept ranting about extraction."

Eames looked at her, his attention electrified. "Yes?"

She swallowed. "Does the name Michael Nash mean anything to you?"

Eames slammed his glass down. "Thanks for not telling me this earlier." Getting up, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. "I need to call Dom."

* * *

Ariadne pulled her legs up on the couch. She couldn't cry - she'd felt that her reserves had run dry. Arthur was missing, she told herself, and the only way she could keep her sanity through this was to tell herself he would return.

_Before you got together...you didn't know anything about him. He could have-_

Suddenly, there was a bang on the door. Stunned, she jumped to her feet, forgetting the possibility of danger. Holding her breath, she wrenched open the door, a cry escaping her lips as Arthur, slumped against the door, fell across the threshold.

* * *

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	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Apologies for the long break in transmission - life got in the way, and I got writers block...but thank you to nowarning23 for being so encouraging in me updating this fic again!**

"Arthur?"

Cobb frowned, and began to get up. The Point Man was lying almost prone in the bed, with no indication that he heard anything. His eyes were closed, and his breathing steady. The Extractor quietly left the room, and shut the door behind him.

Ariadne looked up, from her seat in the lounge. "Is he...ok?"

"Sleeping," Cobb said, nodding. He sank down opposite Ariadne. "Just tell me," he said, gently. "What state was he in when you found him?"

Ariadne frowned. When Arthur had practically fallen across the threshold of her apartment, narrowly missing her, she'd been shocked at his appearance. He was thinner than she remembered, and even looked slightly frail. She'd managed to pull him across the floor and to the bedroom, but it was there she'd received her biggest shocks.

As she'd cut the damp, ruined shirt off him, she'd sucked in her breath. His torso was covered with bruising, staining the pale skin mottle shades of cerise, plum, and charcoal, and she could see its twin along his jawbone. His ribs were more prominent, and his hip bones.

Carefully, she'd pulled up a bowl of water, and decided to gently sponge him down. The cool water had had no effect on Arthur - he'd lain unconscious throughout. She'd bit her lip nervously as she'd unbuckled his belt, pulling down his trousers. His legs exposed, she'd hastily bundled the fabric up and shoved it into her laundry basket. Deftly covering him, protecting his modesty. He'd merely sighed, and turned over.

Ariadne had left the room, and immediately contacted Cobb. As her rushed explanation tumbled out, not aided by the Extractor's gentle questioning, she'd felt a headache begin, a niggling pain.

Cobb sat down, and reached for her hand. "Its ok," he said, softly. "It'll be ok."

She shook her head. "Its just...who took him?"

Cobb frowned. "I've been wondering. I have no idea. I did wonder if..." his voice trailed off.

"What?" she demanded.

"I did wonder if it had something to do with Lloyd, but how could a man in a near vegetative state orchestrate something like this?" he frowned. "Tomorrow, Eames and I will start combing through our lists of clients, see if we can find any indications."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"In fact," Cobb muttered, getting up. "I'll call Eames now."

Ariadne watched as he fished in his pocket for his cell phone.

* * *

"Should we be doing this?" Fran said, softly. She was leaning in close to the Forger, as his fingers gently ran down her hair.

"Probably not," he murmured, stroking her skin. "But I...I just missed you and-"

Before he could speak again, she leaned in, their lips touching. Pulling her towards him, the rest of the world was firmly shut out.

* * *

"No answer." Cobb clicked his cell phone off in frustrated annoyance. "I'll see if I can get him later."

"OK." Ariadne got up, and Cobb began to walk to the door.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" He asked with a worried frown. "I can stay if you need me to-"

She shook her head no. "Cobb, this is Arthur. I'll be fine." She smiled, as if to reassure him. "I can-"

"But you don't know what happened to him," he protested, then his voice diminished as he saw that she was serious. "Well, if you're sure."

"I am."

"Remember, I'm only a phone call away."

"Of course." He leaned down, and to her surprise, pecked her on the cheek. "Look after yourself," he said, quickly, before heading for the elevator.

Ariadne watched his retreating steps, then shut the door. She headed into the kitchen, and began opening cupboards.

Pasta, she decided. Something simple. Arthur, she felt, needed to eat. She began to reach for saucepans, thinking of ingredients.

Suddenly, the saucepan crashed to the floor.

An ear-splitting scream was echoing through the apartment.

Ariadne dropped the bag of pasta, hardly noticing as the pieces spilled out onto the floor. "Oh, God, Arthur." Afraid suddenly of what she might find, she hurried to the bedroom.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. **

"Arthur?" Shocked, Ariadne hurried into the bedroom. What she saw stunned her.

The Point Man was writhing in the bed, trying to yank the covers out of their neatly tucked in corners. He was pulling the sheets towards his face, as thought trying to hide. Swallowing, and recovering her composure, she went towards him.

"Arthur? Please, let me- OH!"

Shocked, she staggered back. He'd pulled himself up, and lashed out, catching he cheek with the back of his hand. The signet ring he wore on his little finger had slid it way across her cheek, grazing it.

She touched her fingers to it. To her horror, as she brought them away, she noticed her own blood.

Arthur's eyes were open, and he'd collapsed onto the bed, panting. He turned and looked at her, his eyes wild. Suddenly, she felt a prickle of fear move down her spine. Without speaking, she left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. On second thought, she flicked the outer lock, trapping him in, away from her.

* * *

Eames sighed, and turned over. Fran was looking at the ceiling, a sheet pulled modestly across her chest. Grinning, the Forger leaned close, and kissed the inside of her neck.

"Well," she commented.

"Well, what?" Eames propped himself up, studying her features. "Well, that was good, or well, that was great?"

She raised her eyebrows as she turned her head. "You're such an egotist."

He smiled. "Part of my charm."

"And charm it is." He leaned over again, preparing to kiss her, when his cellphone started to buzz, annoyingly, insistently. He sighed. "I'll forget it."

"No, don't," Fran said. "It could be important. Please."

Exhaling heavily, the Forger turned, and scooped the sleek black device off the side. His eyes widened as he saw the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Eames?"

"Ariadne?" He began to sit up, frowning. "What?" his eyes widened with shock. "Arthur...get out of there. Now. Please."

Fran was struggling to sit up, pushing back the sheets. Without a word, she was hunting for her clothing, casually tossed on the floor. Eames nodded at her to continue.

"Yes, of course I'll call Cobb. But for god's sake, is there a neighbour, someone you can go to? Ok, you've locked the door. We'll be there in less than ten."

He clicked off, and Fran looked up at him. "What is it?"

"Arthur." Eames bit his lip. "We need to go over to Ariadne's. Its serious."

"We-"

"Fran, we need you." Eames looked at her. "I'll explain on the way."

* * *

Ariadne sat in the lounge, trembling slightly. She cast a look at the door, which she had firmly shut. As she sat, she could hear a banging sound. She shivered.

Against her better judgement, she got up, and headed to the door. The thumping was becoming louder. Swallowing, she opened the door and headed into the hallway.

The banging noise was coming from behind the door. She moved closer towards the door. "Arthur-"

A bang against the door followed. She swallowed, and moved towards it. "Arthur." Putting her hand onto the door knob, she began to rattle it.

The door know began to turn in her hand. "Ariadne?"

She blinked. Arthur sounded calmer. "Ariadne, please, don't lock me in."

"But-" she struggled to control her voice. Arthur sounded surprised, hurt, that he was locked in, but she shuddered, remembering the stinging pain in her cheek as he'd lashed out.

"But what?" Arthur's voice was calm. "But what, Ariadne?"

"Arthur you...you hurt me." She regretted the words as soon as they'd left her mouth. It sounded so juvenile, so adolescent. Whining that he'd hurt her, as though they were two kids in a sandpit.

"Did I?" Arthur sounded genuinely shocked. "What did I do?"

"You-" she stopped, trying to modulate her voice. "You hit me in the face."

"I what?!" Arthur's shock now sounded as though it was nearly outraged. "How did I-?"

"You were thrashing on the bed." She blinked, suddenly wishing she'd never begun this conversation. "I-"

"Thrashing on the bed?"

"Yes."

"Ari. We can't have this conversation if you're on the other side of the door. Please, let me see what I've done."

"I-"

"Please?" his voice was soft, calm, invoking memories. Suddenly, she was back in the warehouse that first day, watching him as he smiled at her, gently probing her arm with the IV. She swallowed.

"Well, ok." She began to unlock the door, and opened it. Arthur stood in front of her, clad only in his boxer shorts. She blushed slightly. His face suddenly filled with concern, and he reached out, touching her cheek.

"I-did that?!" his eyes were wide with shock, and he looked at her. "Christ, Ariadne, how could I-"

"Its ok," she said, almost defensively. "It was an accident, I'll be fine." She reached up, noting how the wound already felt as though it were scabbing over. Protecting itself.

"Let me see," he said, gently, moving his fingers forward. As they brushed against her skin, she shivered slightly. He noticed. "What is it?"

"Its just-" she blinked. "Arthur, you're-"

"Oh!" he glanced down at himself, looking slightly shocked. "Yes, I'm-"

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice suddenly dropping. "I thought it would be best if I-"

Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, kissing her, hard. Slightly stunned, she felt her arms encircle him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I missed you," he whispered, softly. "Really missed you."

"Arthur, what happened to you-"

"Do we have to talk about it?" his kisses were becoming more frantic, more urgent. "I just want to be-"

She swallowed, luxuriating in the feel of his lips on her skin, gently tickling her, teasing her. "Arthur, I-"

"Come on," he whispered, stroking her side. "Come on, please."

She paused, frowning. Something was niggling her, but he was insistent. "Please, come on, come on..."

"Arthur, I-" she began to pull away from him. "Arthur, you've just been-"

"What?" he was beginning to scowl, a harsh line etching itself into his features. "I've just been what?"

"You've been traumatised, and-"

"How do you know?" he shouted at her suddenly, startling her. "How do you know what happened to me?!"

"Arthur, please, I-"

"Ariadne come on, come to bed with me, now!"

She was shocked. He was practically grabbing her, pulling her across the room. She realised that despite his weight loss, he was still strong, still capable of pulling her with him. She began to struggle. "Arthur, stop, please!"

"Ari-" before she could move, he was pushing her down on the bed. "Ariadne, I've waited-"

"Arthur!" a near scream was escaping from her lips. Suddenly, the door banged wide open, and hands were reaching down, pulling the Point Man away, and pushing him into a wall. Ariadne blinked, shocked. Eames, furious, had Arthur contained. His breathing ragged, he glared at the younger man, before turning to her.

"What's going on?"

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	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

"Nothing," Arthur said, quickly, standing up straight. He looked at Eames, his face contorted. "Nothing's wrong."

Fran frowned, and looked from him to Ariadne. The Architect's face was flushed, and her breathing was irregular. Swallowing, Fran walked forward, and put her hands on her shoulders. "Are you allright?"

"Yes, I-" she shivered, not daring to look at the Point Man. The Forger still held him back, and she wondered how long it would be until he pushed him out of the way. She swallowed, and tried to leave the room.

"Ariadne. Don't leave me."

She stopped, slightly shocked. Arthur's voice had been pitiful - pale, and weak, not what she normally expected. She turned, realising that he was looking at her, desperation on his face. "Don't leave me."

"I'm just leaving the room," she said, gently. "I'm not leaving-"

Fran shook her head. "Arthur. We have to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere else." She looked at Eames. "Could you-"

"Of course." Out of the corner of her eye, Ariadne watched as Eames handcuffed Arthur. The younger man squirmed. "Don't! I-"

"No, Arthur, this is for your own good!" Fran hated the sound of her own voice - she sounded as thoughs he were preaching to the younger man, trying to convince him to believe him. Shaking her head, she let the Forger lead him out of the room.

"Where are you taking him?"

Fran turned at the sound of the Architect's voice. "To Eames' place. I need to find out what happened, what's really going on." She rubbed her forehead. "I think you need to go to Cobb's."

Ariadne looked at the psychiatrist, a flicker of distrust starting to move across her face. "Fran. I think I need to know what happened to Arthur-"

"At the moment, we need to ask him that question, and find out exactly what was going on." Fran bit her lip. She looked from the Architect to Arthur, who was being carefully led away by Eames. "But you need to call Cobb. You need to talk to him."

"But what if-" Ariadne stopped, and looked at Fran. "What if its to do with Lloyd?"

She swallowed, carefully marshalling her thoughts. "Its possible." She looked at the Architect, and smiled. "But I insist you call Cobb and talk to him. I need to talk to Arthur, to find out what, if anything, is going on."

Ariadne nodded. Fran noted that her face was pale, and gently reached out, placing her hand on her arm.

"It will be allright," she said, softly. "We need to discover what happened to Arthur when he was away."

* * *

Ariadne sat in the bath, letting the hot water wash over her. She reached for the soap, frowning at the way it slipped in her hands.

Arthur...her thoughts were roaming, trying to work out what could have happened. He'd suddenly re-appeared, not giving any indication as to where he'd been. How could she talk to him?

Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the bathroom door. "Ariadne?"

She sat up, suddenly remembering that Cobb was in her apartment. He'd arrived, and kindly urged her to take bath. As she'd slipped into the warm, silky water, she kept remembering. Remembering their previous case.

Rafe Lloyd. Even though he was hospitalised, vegetative, and would never re-appear, the mere thought made her blood run cold. She remembered how he'd leered at Arthur, leered at her. Taunted him. Taunted him that they would both die. Both dissected, merely instruments for his pleasure.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Lolyd could not hurt either of them, but Arthur's behaviour during the case had frightened her. He'd been overly protective, but also, vulnerable. She shivered, remembering the nightmares, and the fact that he'd revealed to her a secret.

She shook her head. "Yes?"

"Are you allright?"

She smiled. Cobb's protectiveness was what she needed. Getting up, she reached for her towel, and bathrobe. Carefully, she began to climb out of the bath, and got ready to dry herself.

* * *

"Arthur." Fran spoke clearly, looking at the Point Man. "Arthur. Look at me."

He turned his head. He was shaking slightly. "Fran...please."

"Please, what?" she asked, gently. She and Eames had managed to get him into the front room of Eames' apartment, and were both present. "What is it?"

"Please...you have to keep me away from Ariadne."

"Why?" Fran asked, steadily.

"Because I want to hurt her."

Eames blinked, and took a step forward, but Fran gestured at him to stay where he was. "What do you mean, Arthur?"

"I mean I want to kill her."

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